I'm Not a Goddamn Robot, Mike
by AidanTheMadman
Summary: Mike is falling behind. He is in over his head, and needs a way out. He finds it in Harvey.


Mike was sick and tired of the office. He was buried in a pile of paperwork, and, despite his extraordinary skills, he couldn't memorize his way out if this one. He was utterly fucked; he had until eleven to finish. Everyone else had left for the night, leaving just him, and the building got locked up in thirty seven minutes. Utterly fucked. He took another sip of his coffee, savoring it's rich taste. It was his sixth cup that day, and it was starting to show. His handwriting had become an unintelligible scrawl, his hands were shaking so badly. Pearson Specter was silent, the only sound that of Mike's pen scratching away at the paper. Mike thought he was alone, so it was with a start that he looked up at the sound of footsteps. Evidently, Harvey had had just as much work as he did, but had clearly finished it, if the cocky smirk on his beautiful features was to judge. Mike scowled as Harvey approached him, looking back down at his work. "Get out of here Harvey, I'm not in the mood."

Something in Mike's tone struck Harvey as final, so he decided to be brief. "Pack up, you're done here," Harvey said curtly, eyeing the stacks of paper that practically engulfed Mike.

"Harvey, you have eyes, look at this shit. Louis is trying to kill me with paperwork."

"I don't give a shit, get your ass out. We're closing in ten minutes, and unless you plan to spend the night on my office couch, I'd do what you're told."

With that Harvey abruptly turned on his heel and walked off. Mike could almost sense Harvey's smirk.

Mike had, in the interest of his sleep cycle and his back, decided to go home and rest. He only had one problem, biking in New York City at eleven in the night was dangerous, and, quite frankly, downright idiotic. He was stuck. He could try and catch the A Train, but then he'd still have to walk to his apartment from the station. He stood the for a few minutes, starting around, formulating a plan when Harvey pulled up in his Lexus and rolled down the window. "Well, I'd tell you that biking home was dangerous at this time of night, but, judging by your ridiculous expression of confusion, I'm guessing you've found that out for yourself. I'd also mention that the subway isn't exactly safe this time of night either, but you're smart. You know this."

Harvey smirked, clearly pleased with himself for swooping in as the only savior. Mike scowled, the cocky bastard was offering him a ride, and being a prick about it. Mike thought about this, it wasn't his only option, but it was certainly his safest. If he just let Harvey drop him off at his apartment, he could catch a cab back to work and then ride his bike back home the next day. Yes, this was the best plan, but Mike was feeling proud. "Actually, Harvey, I think I'll catch a cab."

Mike's heart was beating very quickly, pounding somewhere in his throat. The worst if it was that he had no idea why he was getting, for lack of a better word, nervous. "Mike," Harvey spoke curtly, with an almost forceful tone, "Get in the car. You're not taking a cab."

"Harvey, you're not my dad, I can do whatever the hell I want."

Mike scowled at him again, and Harvey looked a little taken aback, but only for a second. "Michael, just let me drive you home."

Harvey almost pleaded, but his steely tone remained in place. "Why?" Mike shot back back at him almost angrily.

Of course, Mike had no clue why he was so angry; it was like he was 6 again and getting a thrill from daring to be rude to his teacher. "Because you do most of my busy work and help me win cases, and if you get shot, you're no use to me in a hospital; I'm not inconveniencing myself bringing you your papers to your bedside. It ensures you don't do anything stupid, you seem prone to that. Now, if you're done acting like a child with wounded pride, I'd like if could get in the goddamn car."

Harvey wasn't expecting a response, and didn't get one. When he looked back at Mike he seemed angry, but started towards the car anyways. The door opened and Mike grumpily slid into the leather passenger seat. Mike looked out the window, at the touch screen on the dashboard, the stitching on the seats, anywhere but at Harvey. The car hadn't started moving yet. Begrudgingly, Mike turned and looked at Harvey, who was staring him puzzled. "Can I help you?"

Mike tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice but just couldn't. "Yes, you can," Harvey answered, his voice rising, "why are you acting so pathetic? I, on a perfectly good Friday night, when I could already be at a bar finding my partner for the night, am here, trying to be kind by offering my bitchy associate a ride home, something I don't often go out of my way to do. Now, the work has gotten to my nerves, and I can only assume it's done the same to you, so I will pass this embarrassing little stunt of yours off as nothing more than a stress induced fit."

Harvey looked back out the front windshield and started driving. They drove along, probably breaking the speed limit, for several minutes. Harvey stayed silent, and Mike started to think that he had seriously upset his boss. Suddenly they had stopped and moving, and Mike looked around with some surprise. They had arrived at his apartment building.

Mike started to get out, but stopped, seeing Harvey stepping out of the car as well. "What are you doing?" Mike asked.

"I'm a gentleman, Michael, even if you aren't. I shall leave you for the night, but only after I walk you to your door."

Mike was stunned at this, but decided to go with it. He walked up the stairs with Harvey at his side, and held the door for him. Harvey smirked at this obvious plea for forgiveness, but said nothing. They rode up the elevator together, predictably in silence, until the doors opened. Mike walked out into the hallway, harvey following suit, until the pair of men where at Mike's front door. "Michael, enjoy your weekend, take a break, rest. You need it."

With that Harvey turned and walked back down the hallway. Mike unlocked his door and walked into the apartment he called home. He was exhausted and confused. He'd work out his problems in the morning.

When Harvey had told Mike he could be finding a woman to sleep with, he had lied. He had been planning to spend the night alone, and had decided to make use of his rare free time to kindly drive his associate home. Harvey hadn't, however, bargained on Mike acting so unlike himself. Harvey was sitting alone on his couch, glass of scotch in hand, staring out into the New York night, thinking about his associate. This had become common, Harvey thinking about Mike, and it was beginning to worry him. Why was Mike the sole object of Harvey's thoughts, and confusing ones at that. Harvey had been thinking more and more about Mike; his skin, his muscles, his ass, his cock, his scent, really his everything. Harvey was not so much confused about his attraction to a man, he had gotten over his sexual identity crisis in college, but more confused about his attraction to Michael. Ever since a skinny college dropout had tumbled into his associate interviews with a briefcase full of marijuana and promised to be the best lawyer he'd ever seen Harvey had been transfixed. The way he walked, the way he talked, the way he tied his skinny tie, he had become Harvey's sole sexual desire. It was exhausting, trying to work on a case and only wanting to bend Mike over his desk and fuck him. Harvey picked up his phone and dialed a number. Maybe he wanted to spend the night with someone after all.

Mike couldn't sleep. He kept turning over on his bed, the sheets sticking to his sweaty skin. He was frustrated. It had been a long week, they had lost the most important case they'd had in a long whole, then got an even more important and urgent one. Mike supposed he'd be happy for the weekend break, but now he just wanted to get back to working. He stared at the ceiling of his room for a long while, thinking about everything. Why they had lost the case, why Harvey looked so damned good in those suits, why he was acting so strangely, why Harvey smelled so nice, why Donna hadn't come into work that day, why Harvey's smile made him feel like a child in a fucking candy shop, etc., etc. He slowly drifted off to sleep, his head swarming with useless little pieces of information and hopeless questions.


End file.
